


Crab

by yeaka



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Butt Plugs, Ficlet, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori hears strange things in the woods and worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crab

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “anything involving Dwalin having a plug up is arse (bonus: spanking is/was involved)” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21944555#t21944555).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The first thing Nori does when he surfaces out of the stream is check that his hair’s in place—his current favoured style is something of an art form that too much water can derail. Once sure that his star-like shape and array of intricate braids has survived the cannonball, it’s on to business. Nori wades straight up to Bofur, who’s lounging back against a rock, head thrown back on it like he’s sunbathing. His hat is somewhere off on shore, the surface of the water lapping at his chest just below his dusty nipples. He peeks one eye open on Nori’s approach but doesn’t bother to move otherwise.

“Have you seen Dwalin?” Nori mutters in a hushed, conspirator’s tone—something he’s rather used to. No one’s quite close enough to hear anyway; the others are mostly clustered around Óin and Glóin, who have Fíli and Kíli up on their shoulders, trying to wrestle each other off while the rest cheer and Bilbo frets. At Nori’s words, Bofur lifts his head off the rock, straightening out. 

But he only asks, looking confused, “Why are you whispering?”

“Something fishy’s going on,” Nori explains, shifting closer, so that their shoulders are touching. Bofur looks down at the water as though expecting to see little creatures swimming past them, but Nori shakes his head and elaborates, “No, not that—I was undressing next to Balin, and I was _sure_ I heard Thorin’s voice back amongst the trees, and then this weird smacking sound, but when I asked what it was, Balin said he didn’t hear anything!”

Bofur just shrugs and says, “He’s very old, give him a break.”

“It was loud, Bofur, and it went on and on,” Nori insists crossly, “he _had_ to have heard it.”

Frowning, Bofur tries, “Well, what kind of thumping was it? Maybe Thorin was just practicing with his sword?”

“No, it was more like slapping. And now Dwalin’s gone.”

Squinting at him, Bofur asks slowly, “Are you trying to say you think Thorin’s beating up Dwalin?”

Nori only sighs in exasperation: of course not, that would be absurd. For one thing, Dwalin might be the biggest in their lot; even Thorin wouldn’t have an easy go of trouncing him. For another, Thorin and Dwalin have always been close; as far as Nori knows, they’re best friends. 

Yet neither of them is in the stream, even though it was Thorin’s idea to stop, and surely he and Dwalin need a good wash as well as any of them. Bofur glances over his shoulder, back along the rocky shore to the edge of the forest, curiosity obviously peaked.

Then he slaps Nori’s shoulder, and Nori turns to see the two dwarves in question strolling out of the trees. Amidst the ruckus ahead of them, no one else has noticed, but Nori’s eyes go immediately to Dwalin. Both he and Thorin are naked, just like all the rest. Both of them are hard, which is just as common, especially at bathing times, considering how many attractive men are in their group, it can’t be helped. Nori himself almost never goes a full bath without getting hard—watching Fíli and Kíli wrestling one another, wet and naked, is twice as effective as his hand could ever be, not to mention the way Bofur runs his soft palms along his plump form when he washes. But only Dwalin is _limping_.

Big, broad, muscular dwarves like Dwalin don’t just go around limping for no reason. He has no new injuries on either leg, and he wasn’t limping this morning, Nori’s sure, yet now there’s a certain stiff difficulty to the way he takes each step. His face is oddly red under the warm sun, the usual gruffness steeled over in pointed determination. Thorin, on the other hand, looks perfectly sated. 

He heads to the bigger cluster, calling, “Finish up, Fíli, Kíli! We have a quest to discuss when you’re done your games!” That calls everyone’s attention, and even Bofur slips away, wading over to the large grouping.

Nori, on the other hand, stays where he is, watching Dwalin slip into the water behind him, away from the crowd. As Dwalin carefully climbs down, Nori leans back to get an up-close shot of Dwalin’s tight ass, taut cheeks even redder than his face, sporting horizontal and diagonal lines across them that leave bright trails, the flesh there looking sore and tender. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happened. Nori instantly puts together the dots to realize that Dwalin’s been thoroughly _spanked_. Obviously, when they were in the woods, Thorin had his most loyal follower up against a tree or down in the dirt or maybe across his knee, taking one hard blow after another. It’s obvious from the intensity of the marks that Thorin didn’t hold back—and knowing Dwalin, he probably didn’t want Thorin to. 

But what stands out even more is the thick, black plug that sticks out from between those red cheeks. Protruding from the bottom and squishing the soft flesh aside, a short cylinder glistens in the sunlight, seemingly already wet with something thicker than water. Dwalin’s been spanked and _plugged_. Nori’s throat feels suddenly dry, while his brain races through the possibilities—it could be a short, blunt plug, or a connecter to a string of large, glossy beads, or even a bulbous dildo, currently stretching wide Dwalin’s hot channel. 

A second later, Dwalin’s body is swallowed up in the water, only his shoulders poking out. Catching Nori staring, he glares, as if defying Nori to say anything. Nori hurriedly looks away, whistling on instinct. He isn’t fooling anyone. But he knows that Dwalin is a very private dwarf and probably won’t bring it up. It’s understandable. If Nori were getting spanked and filled by the great Thorin Oakenshield, he probably wouldn’t want to spread it and run the risk of sharing either. 

Dwalin swims past him, headed for the clump of dwarves and one hobbit waiting on Thorin’s words.

And Nori follows him, dipping under the water for a better look.


End file.
